THREE

Leora

He was gone by morning, leaving my door unlocked and a lingering embarrassment in the air after his pointed comment. It had made me second-guess every interaction—had I imagined the flirtation, or was it just wishful thinking?

Stranger equals danger, Leora. Get a grip!

With a sigh, I pulled my French press from the cabinet, my motions mechanical as I set about brewing my morning coffee. Today weighed heavy on me; I was summoned back to the interrogation rooms at the Detention Center. Though I'd be shielded behind reinforced glass, the proximity to condemned criminals on death row, unnerved me.

I poured the steaming coffee into my to-go mug and set out for the center. The building loomed over me as I approached, its stark, imposing structure feeling particularly oppressive under today's gray skies.

My appointment today was with Delara Booth from Blackthorn Security, who was running the interrogation. The scant information I had been given mentioned an inmate tangled in a human trafficking ring, now turned scapegoat by his own crew. No doubt, Ms. Booth intended to exploit his precarious position, perhaps to flip his allegiance. The thought of what awaited made the coffee in my hand feel even colder.

After my usual checkin routine, I found myself sitting behind the glass, alongside Ms. Booth who was agitatedly tapping away on her phone.

"We were told you'd be joining us." She spoke in her posh British accent without looking up.

"Ah yes, Ms. Booth. I'm the resident psychologist for this Center. Happy to help you through this interrogation."

I cowered under her scrutinizing gaze, as she spoke again. "We technically don't need you, but I hear the inmate is pretty unstable. We might need you to calm him down."

I bristled slightly, correcting her, "My role doesn't include direct interaction, Ms. Booth. I'm here to observe and analyze body language and truthfulness. Direct contact with the inmate isn't part of the protocol I was briefed on."

"Well, aren't you useless, then?" She scoffed.

"Excuse me?" I countered.

"I said we don't need you. You'll be pretty bored giving absolutely no help for this."

"It's policy–"

She cut me off. "Fuck policy, Ms. Leora Mateez. We don't need you here unless it's to calm him down."

My anger bubbled over. "It's Doctor Leora Mateez. And what you're demanding is against our policy. "

She rolled her fucking eyes at me and sighed dismissively. "Fine. Be here. But don't utter a single word, Ms. Mateez."

Her tone stung, but I clenched my jaw and shot back, "It's doctor , you bitch. Call me miss again, and I will end this interrogation before it even starts."

She smirked, clearly amused by my irritation, and sauntered out of the room. I was left fuming, my day already soured by Zarek's thoughts and now this encounter. Ms. Booth was really testing my limits.

The interrogation session passed without a hitch, much to my relief. Ms. Booth emerged from the room with a particularly triumphant air, her demeanor unnervingly cheery compared to her earlier frostiness. I provided her with my notes and let her be. Once I wrapped up my duties for the day, I made my way to the gym, eager to shake off the tension.

As I started my workout, I realized I was hitting the punching bag harder than usual. The day's frustrations were bleeding into each strike; I wasn't just practicing—I was venting. The memory of my recent scuffles with those thugs, Blondie and Buzzcut, crept into my mind. Oddly enough, I found myself missing the raw, chaotic energy of that very real fight.

Back then, every punch felt like shaking off chains. Now, facing the predictable rhythm of a regular sparring session, everything seemed too tame, too controlled. The gym was supposed to be my escape, but today it fell short of satisfying the craving for a real challenge that had ignited within me.

Dragging myself home, exhaustion clung to me like a second skin. Stepping off the train station and onto the bustling street, I caught a fleeting glimpse of a figure shrouded in black. His face was barely visible, but I knew his gaze was locked on me. The person momentarily slipped from view, then reappeared, walking nonchalantly in the opposite direction.

For a heart-stopping moment, I thought it might be Blondie or Buzzcut. My heart skipped a beat, icy fear coursing through my veins.

As I continued my walk, the thought of Zarek flickered through my mind. What if it was him? Had last night really been the last time he'd seen me? The idea lingered, both comforting and disconcerting, as I made my way through the dimly lit streets, feeling the weight of unseen eyes tracking my every step.

The moment I sank into the couch, my phone lit up with a call from my mom. I stared at the screen as it rang. I didn't have the energy to answer, but when she called a second time, a flicker of concern nudged my fatigue aside. She never called me twice in a row.

"Mom?" My voice cracked slightly as I finally answered. "Is everything okay?"

"Ora! Why aren't you picking up? I called you so many times!"

"You called once, Mom. I was just getting settled in. What's going on?" I tried to keep my tone light, brushing off the irritation.

She sighed. "Oh nothing. Just your father is annoying me. He wants us to take a trip to Hawaii. I told him I don't want to leave you by yourself."

"Mom, I already am by myself. I think it'd be nice if you go."

"Are you sure? After everything, I just…" Her voice trailed off, the unspoken fears hanging heavy between us. She was clearly alluding to that terrifying time two years ago when I had ended up in the hospital, after being brutally stabbed by my ex -boyfriend. It was only natural for my parents to worry.

"Yeah, Mom, I'm sure. It's been two years. I'm doing okay," I reassured her, even though part of me tightened at the reminder. "Really, go enjoy Hawaii. I'll be fine."

There was a pause, heavy with her lingering anxiety. "Okay, Ora, if you're sure. Just promise me you'll call if you need anything?"

"I promise, Mom." I smiled, though she couldn't see it. "Love you."

"Love you, too, honey. Did you hear about—"

"Mom," I cut her off. "I…can we chat later? I just—I'm not feeling too well."

"Oh, is everything okay? Is it your period?"

I rolled my eyes even though she couldn't see me. "No, Mom. Not my period. I'm just tired. I just got back from the gym and I don't have the energy left."

"Well, when do you?" she taunted.

"I'm sorry, Mom. Say hi to Dad for me, okay?"

There was a beat of silence on her end. And then she spoke again. "Ora. We worry, you know. You haven't been dating anyone and you're lonely, honey."

This again.

"God! I'm not lonely, Mom. I like living by myself. Honestly. Drop it. I know you think what happened still bothers me. It doesn't. I promise." I winced internally as the massive lies slipped out of me.

"Okay, honey. Just…take care of yourself, okay?"

"Yeah, Mom. I'll talk to you later, okay? Bye now."

As I hung up, the weight of their constant worry pressed down on me. Two years, and yet the shadow of the past still loomed large. I wanted to forget, but even more than that, I wished my friends and family could erase it from their memory too.

Since Adriano, I hadn't let anyone else in. The idea of being close to another man, potentially as cruel as he had been, made my skin crawl. I couldn't stomach the thought of surrendering control to someone else again. Adriano and I had been together for only seven months, but the final month was lost to me. The bits and pieces I did remember, only served as the testament to my naivety. How stupid I had been, to think love was supposed to feel like that.

Suddenly, the image of Zarek infiltrated my thoughts. A shiver ran down my spine, but not from fear. His sharply defined features—the angular face, the stern jawline—somehow brought a mix of intimidation and intrigue that I hadn't felt in a long time.

???

"So, he's dead, huh?" Ally's question jolted me back into our ongoing conversation about Adriano. There I was, sitting with her at this patio restaurant a few days later, my gaze darting around nervously, almost instinctively scanning for that untraceable watchfulness I felt.

"Yep, dead and gone. Guess that rules out worrying about his parole in seven years," I mumbled, poking at my eggs benedict without much appetite.

"Well, I'm just glad to have my friend back... Well, almost back. You seem a million miles away these days." Ally's voice was tinged with a mix of concern and curiosity.

I met her eyes briefly as she tilted her wine glass against the sunlight, casting a warm glow on her face. " What do you mean? I'm right here, Allison."

That drew a small laugh from her. "Ooh, full name basis, huh? You know you only do that when you're on edge. What's up?"

I couldn't help but smile, albeit faintly. "It's just… something happened a few days ago. It's been stuck in my head."

Her expression shifted from playful to keen in an instant. "You met someone, didn't you?"

"Fuck no!" I blurted out, a bit too loudly.

Her grin widened, mischief twinkling in her eyes. "You did!" She pointed at me accusingly, her voice crescendoing to a dramatic wail. "And he's handsome, isn't he?"

I sighed, my slight twitch giving me away. "Ally, please, lower your voice. We're not alone here."

She leaned forward, her voice hushed but filled with excitement. "Spill it then. How did you meet Mr. Mystery?"

Wincing at the thought of explaining the potentially illegal circumstances of our meeting, I chose my words carefully. "Let's just say I helped him. And now, I think he might be watching over me. Might be him, you know?"

Her eyes widened in alarm. "Girl, no! You helped some random guy and now he's stalking you?"

If you think about it like that? Well…

Trying to brush off her concern—and my own—I managed a weak laugh. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid? It's nothing."

But Ally wasn't convinced and kept probing. "Describe him to me, then. What does he look like?"

Begrudgingly, I let slip about his striking appearance, maybe even mentioned something about a ‘Greek god', which only fueled her curiosity.

As brunch stretched into late afternoon, we wrapped up, still chatting animatedly. Before parting ways, I half-jokingly, half-seriously made her promise not to mention my potential ‘stalker' situation to my parents. "They're in Hawaii, Ally. They don't need this kind of stress."

She agreed, but I could tell her mind was racing with the romantic possibilities. Meanwhile, I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on me as I walked away, the sensation oddly comforting yet unnerving.